


His Side of the Bed

by junko



Series: Curse of the Nue [11]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite everything that's happened between them, Renji returns to Byakuya's bed.  Things are tense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Side of the Bed

Renji had hoped Byakuya would be asleep by the time he got to the captain’s quarters. Instead, he could feel Byakuya’s familiar reistsu just beyond the rice paper door. He could hear the captain moving around inside, making preparations for bed.

_Bed._

It used to be Renji’s favorite place in the entire world, his side of Byakuya’s bed. Now Renji’s stomach clenched at the thought of going in there--seeing Byakuya undressed, his hair down, looking so normal, so… gorgeous.

Renji continued to hesitate at the threshold. He ran his fingers through his unbound hair, feeling bits of alley grit in the tangled strands.

_Kiss my feet._

How fucked up was that?

Despite going over and over it in his mind, Renji was having trouble believing that what had happened was even true.

And that he’d _done_ it.

He might not want to think too hard about what’d transpired, but Renji knew _why_ he’d shamed himself like that. It was the same as before, the same as always. He did it because there was _no other_ choice, not really, not if you wanted to keep body and soul together. Sometimes you did stuff to survive. You couldn’t regret it, none of it, not if you still had breath in your lungs, not if you could get back up on your feet and keep moving forward.

Renji kicked off his shoes. Time to move ahead, go through this door and face whatever came next.

But, damn it all, if the gods loved him even the tiniest shred, Byakuya would have a bottle or two of sake in that bedroom and he could get rip-roaring drunk and forget this whole screwed up mess.

He slid open the door with a grunt and a, “Hey.”

Seeing him, Byakuya stood up from where he sat at his dresser and smiled. An actual, heartbreaking-take-your-breath-away smile graced his face. “You’ve decided to come in, then,” he said, “I’m glad.”

Byakuya was dressed for bed. He had on a deep blue kimono decorated with white swans in flight around the hems. His hair was free of the kenseikan and the silk scarf had been put away as well.

No symbol of rank or station, it was just unadorned Byakuya as Renji had come to love him.

Renji found he couldn’t look at him; he had to tear his eyes away and stare at pretty much anything else. “Is there any chance you have a bottle in this place? I could use a drink.”

“I thought you might. I had the servants bring us up some sake.”

A stroke of luck, finally. He looked up to see Byakuya beckoning over to the bed. A new end table held a bottle and two bowls. As Renji made his way over, he took note of the rest of the new furnishings. The heron watercolor was now replaced with one of a close-up of a dragonfly inspecting a garden of bellflowers. The dresser had been salvaged, though it was now without a mirror. There was a brand new bench against the wall, under the window, covered with amber silk and soft pillows. It was all more colorful than the former stuff, and it somehow seemed more expressive and personal.

“I like what you’ve done to the place,” Renji said, perching on the corner of the bed.

“A lot of the previous furniture and such belonged to my grandfather; I had never bothered replacing it. These things are from my private collection.”

That explained it. Renji took the bowl Byakuya handed him, slammed it back, and offered it for refilling. Byakuya cocked a thin, dark eyebrow at him briefly, before pouring more.

Setting the sake bottle on the table, Byakuya said, “I think, however, if you’re going to drink like that, you may serve yourself.”

“Cheers,” Renji said, swallowing the next bowlful whole. He put the bowl down and picked up the bottle. He tipped it back and guzzled as much as he could before needing to breathe.

Byakuya watched him with thinning lips, but when Renji empted the rest in a matter of seconds, he merely pressed the bell for the servant. He walked over to a new bookshelf, and started looking through books, “I’m going to read for a while and then go to sleep. Feel free to join me once you’ve drunk yourself into a stupor.”

Renji already had enough of a buzz on to ask, “Why am I here?”

“Because you’re mine and this is where I want you,” Byakuya said calmly. He’d apparently found the book he wanted, because he stood up and carried one over to the bed.

“Oh,” Renji said. Dropping his gaze, he turned the empty bottle over in his hands. The glass reflected his tired, worn face. “That’s right.”

“Try not to drink so much that you vomit,” Byakuya said, pulling back the sheets and settling in. But, then he paused a moment and said softly, “But do what you need to do.”

 _To get through it_.

Shit. This was exactly as fucked up as all that. He put the bottle down on the floor and laid his head against the low headboard. He pulled the hair from his face with his hands, and stared at the ceiling, “Remember that night I showed up here drunk? I recited my crappy poetry for you. That was nice.”

“It was.”

“You took me to the Cherry Blossom Festival at the Imperial Palace, too. I never been nowhere like that before.”

Byakuya said nothing to that, just made an appreciative noise.

“Your aunt’s a piece of work, though. I guess that’s a Kuchiki trait, eh?”

“Renji…” the tone was full of warning.

Renji was spared having to attempt to act penitent by the arrival of the servant. He pulled himself out of bed, surprised by how heavy and clumsy he already felt. Maybe a second bottle wasn’t such a good idea. Given the sort of things already coming out of his mouth, too much more alcohol could only be dangerous. So, when he got to the door and slid it open, he leaned heavily on the door frame intending to tell the girl to skedaddle.

But he was stunned speechless by the sight of the servant kneeling at the door, awaiting orders. Something cold stabbed Renji’s gut seeing her like that, her head bowed.

Goddamn it all, this was what he was used to, what he expected of everyone.

“What does my lord require?” the serving girl asked timidly, when Renji just hung there, swaying a little, his mouth unable to anything but gape in a kind of mute horror.

“Another bottle of sake for my lieutenant,” Byakuya said from the bed.

“No,” Renji said quickly, pulling himself together. “Countermand that. I’m good. Maybe… Aio, do you know what’s Miki got leftover?”

Aio looked up at her name. She blinked her big, brown eyes, confused to be talking directly to Renji instead of Byakuya. Her eyes widened even more at the sight of him in his robe, ready for bed. “Uh… I’m not sure, sir,” she managed to stammer and pull her gaze up from his exposed chest to his eyes, “Maybe some cold chicken?”

“If she’s got it, that would be awesome, but I’ll take whatever she don’t have to make. Just be sure to tell her it’s for Renji, not the boss. She’ll know not to send along anything too spicy.”

Aio nodded profusely and went on her way. Renji lurched his way back to the bed. “You’d think with all your redecorating, you’d fix the floor in this place,” he said, when he finally reached the mattress and dropped down into it, hard. “I swear your tatami hates me.”

Byakuya looked up from his book, and said dryly, “I’ll see what can be done.”

Renji glanced over at Byakuya, sensing his slight little smile. A few weeks ago, Renji would have leaned over and given him a kiss for being so cute-and-prissy like that. He shook his head sadly, “Too bad. I could have been really good for you, you know. I wish you hadn’t fucked things up so much.”

Then, he rolled over and closed his eyes. He never found out what Miki had on offer from the kitchens, because he was snoring in a matter of seconds.

#

 

Byakuya realized he’d read the same line seven times and he still didn’t know what it said. He shut the book and looked over at Renji’s back. Byakuya rested a gentle hand on Renji’s shoulder, on that ratty pink flowered robe he loved so much, feeling his body rise and fall as he slept.

Yes, it _was_ a shame.

But, what was done was done. Renji would get over it, in time. As awful as some of it’d had to be, it had worked in its own way.

Renji was much more like he used to be--sniping little remarks, drunken snoring, and all.

There was one brand new difference, though, and Byakuya wasn’t sure what to make of it. Renji’s language, it was slipping.

His accent was much stronger than it usually was, and his grammar was sloppier, too. Renji, of course, had never been trained out of his Inuzuri accent, like Rukia, but normally he was more circumspect of sentence structure and careful of subject verb agreement. It wasn’t a big change, but Byakuya had noticed a few slight moments both here and in the alley.

Maybe it was just because he’d gotten so drunk so quickly. Earlier, perhaps, it was meant to punctuate an important point.

Because, if it was a portent of something more ominous, Byakuya couldn’t fathom what it might be.

At least Byakuya had managed to frighten the demon away. It seemed very promising that Renji had left Zabimaru behind.

Byakuya frowned as he reached to turn out the light. He found it disgusting and unseemly to be so jealous of man’s zanpaktō. He hated that he was in a relationship with Zabimaru, as well. Renji was complicated enough, without having to deal with another, strong-willed personality… or personalities, as the case may be.

Perhaps, if that horrible thing stayed out of their bed, things could improve.

Snuggling up against Renji, Byakuya closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

#

 

Renji woke drenched in a cold sweat. None of his punches connected to anything but air, and he had a vague sense of Byakuya shouting at him to wake up. He was sitting up, looking around frantically for danger, when Byakuya said, “You were dreaming.”

Renji struggled to catch his breath. It was all still so real. He could smell the blood, hear Katsuo calling his name. It had been a long time since that day, and it surprised Renji how it had all come back so vividly.

Byakuya got up and brought him a bowl of water from the washroom. As he handed it to Renji, he stood over him and asked, “Are you… _prone_ to nightmares?”

“No,” he said, knowing Byakuya was really asking if he had some kind post-traumatic stress problem.

“Only, I’ve heard you mumbling about Kenpachi’s bells, haven’t I?”

Renji drank down the water, and set the bowl on top of the empty one on the end table. “Exactly, if I was going to have some mental break it would have been at the Eleventh. That place was a warzone twenty-four seven.”

Byakuya sat down beside him on the bed. “I hear that sometimes it’s the quiet that brings things back.”

 _Quiet? Well, that wouldn’t be here then, would it?_ Instead of trusting himself to speak, Renji just grunted noncommittally.

Renji could feel Byakuya looking at him, trying to catch his eye. But, Renji stared resolutely at his lap, at the hands he clasped there. Byakuya knew better than to try to touch him right now, but Renji could sense Byakuya wanting to, the tentative extension of reistsu that quickly retreated. Byakuya asked softly, “What was it about?”

 _You. Indirectly, anyway. It was about the last time I was forced to my knees._ “Nothing much,” Renji shrugged, “Just old stuff.”

“I suppose… I suppose there’s a lot of that,” Byakuya said sounding uncharacteristically unsure of what to say.

“Yep,” Renji agreed. But with Inuzuri swirling around him Renji found himself glancing at the door, briefly—not too long, least he give away his intentions, his plans to escape. He dropped his gaze to his hands again and worked to keep his tone light, “Say, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to be on my own for a bit. You know, walk it off.”

“Of course.”

Renji untangled himself from the sheets. He gotten quite wrapped up in them, but he managed to separate himself from the bed without tearing silk or bumping into Byakuya. With a grunt, he made it to his feet. He was just about to head for the door when Byakuya’s hand caught his. Renji held his breath.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need,” Byakuya said, then he let go.

Renji frowned. _Don’t confuse me with this shit_. “Yeah,” he said, instead. “You bet.”

#

 

Renji thought about going to see Rukia again, but she’d be terrorized if he kept laying all his burdens at her feet. She had enough of her own worries; she didn’t need to listen to his whining.

Besides, Katsuo was before her time.

And, honestly, he was probably still a little drunk, since it took him a long time to negotiate the stairs and find his quarters. He could bully his way into the guardhouse at almost any hour, but he’d trained his people well enough that they’d rebuff him if he was wasted off his gourd.

Once at his quarters, he crawled into his cot and pulled Zabimaru up close to him. There was a little fussing from the zanpaktō, who was clearly irritated at being left behind, but Renji could still feel Zabimaru settling close to him, surrounding him with a feeling of safety, power.

 _You are never alone with us,_ the deep voice reminded him.

The other hissed in agreement, _Together, we can face anything_.

Things certainly would have been different if he’d had Zabimaru back in Inuzuri. Those yakuza toughs would have been the ones bleeding out their lives in the street, not poor Katsuo. Renji couldn’t even remember what they’d done to piss off those gangsters. It was probably something meaningless. Those guys were vicious. They’d kill you if you looked at them funny, just to make a point--just because they could.

And they could, and they did.

It was the first time that Renji had been forced to give up the fight like that, been so cornered that his only choices were death or acquiescence, acceptance of someone else’s superior strength.

It still hurt, so many years later. He was supposed to be the big brother, the one that protected them all. He was all alone then -- no Rukia, no Zabimaru. He hadn’t been able to do it. There were too many of them. By the time Renji realized exactly what was going to go down, it was too late to make an escape, too late to save _everyone_.

Renji still felt guilty. It should have been him.

Katsuo was the stupid loudmouth who’d provoked the gansters, but he was just a kid. Of course, they were all kids, but Katsuo didn’t deserve to die begging for his life, pleading with his eyes for Renji to save him—like he’d always done in the past.

And, then, when Renji thought the whole horrible thing was all over, those bastards still weren’t satisfied. They’d wanted Renji and the remains of his gang on their knees, showing respect.

Oh, how he’d wanted to resist. To let them kill him too, just like they threatened. But, that was when he first realized that sometimes death wasn’t noble or honorable at all. It was, in fact, the coward’s way out—dying was a way to just quit, give up responsibility, and leave the hard, painful choices to someone else.

Or, even worse, to make the survivors think dying was the right thing to do, and lose absolutely everyone and everything to stupidity -- to _foolish_ pride.

Renji had gone to his knees to save the others. The yakuza toughs tried to tell him that he’d done it because he was weak and because he wanted to save his own neck.

He’d known better even then.

It didn’t make him feel any better about it, though. And, apparently, some part of his mind had never truly made peace with it, with Katsuo. He’d sworn to himself then that he’d never let anyone else die under his watch, but… he hadn’t be able to keep that promise to himself. He’d lost friend after friend to Inuzuri.

Until it was just him and Rukia left.

Now he was losing her too.

No.

He wasn’t ready to give up yet. Byakuya might be keeping him on a tight leash, but he hadn’t entirely made himself the enemy yet. Byakuya had proven he was a crap-ass lover, but he wasn't blocking Rukia's rescue.  In fact, Renji still believed Byakuya wanted to save Rukia, but must have hit some wall of his own.

Byakuya had forbidden talk of treason.  It didn't mean Renji couldn't engage in it, as long as he kept the Sixth and Byakuya out of it.  There was still Ukitake. That guy was an old-timer --surely he’d have some way, some connections he could use. Renji’s plan was to use the servants’ network. They weren’t connected to the Gotei Thirteen in any official regard, as they were maintained exculsively by the various noble houses that could afford them. But they knew everything that went on inside and outside of the barracks of the masters they served. He had a good relationship with the Kuchiki staff; they liked him, they saw him as one of their own, even as an advocate. Renji could use Miki to get word to Ukitake’s people. The Thirteenth’s captain was sick right now, but someone brought him food—and that someone could make sure Ukitake knew what needed to be done as soon as he was well enough.

As long as they stuck to the execution schedule there should be plenty of time for Ukitake to recover.

It wasn’t going to be like Katsou this time, damn it. Renji wasn’t alone here.

 _Yes_ , hissed Zabimaru.

The other continued, _We’ve got your back_.

 _And maybe, if we're lucky, Rukia’s too_ , Renji thought, closing his eyes.

 


End file.
